


Tedium

by elisetales



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Bitching, M/M, Self-Harm, Smut, Triggers, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisetales/pseuds/elisetales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deimos questions his navigator about Abel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kurenai_Tenka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurenai_Tenka/gifts).



"He's such a fucking _bitch_ ," Phobos hotly declared to no one in particular, sitting at the edge of his bed with his legs crossed, bathrobe pulled loosely over narrow shoulders as he combed out his pale wet hair. "Everyone knows he only volunteered first to make the rest of us look bad. He's always sucking up to the fucking _commander_. Won't be long now before he's riding his dick, if he isn't already. I just... I don't know what everyone sees in him, Deimos, he's so _ugly_. Have you seen that hideous scar of his? Someone told me his fighter gave it to him -- can you _imagine_? Ugh. What a slut. I hope he does everyone a favor and crashes his Starfighter into a planetoid."

"Who?" Deimos quietly asked, lying flat on his back and blowing plumes of smoke toward the ceiling, only half-listening to his navigator's ceaseless whining. It was the same every night, nothing new. Phobos was a whiny little bitch and awful at giving head, but he did what he was told and Deimos thought he was alright for the most part, as far as navigators went. Still too sheltered and fucking stuffy, but honest at the least.

"Abel," Phobos sneered. "Fucking _Abel_. He's so mean to me, Deimos, I wish you could--"

But Deimos wasn't listening anymore. He sat up and stood, planting one knee on the mattress next to Phobos and leaning over him, taking one last drag on his cigarette before he stubbed it out in the tray beside the bed. "Abel, huh? Tell me more about him."

Phobos bit his lip and leaned back on his palms, spreading his legs a little, white robe slipping off one shoulder. "You... you wouldn't know him, Deimos," he said breathlessly, shyly tugging at the hem of Deimos' shirt and looking up at him hopefully.

"I know he makes you crazy, lapushka," Deimos replied, gently tucking a lock of pale hair behind Phobos' ear, gratified when Phobos' eyes fluttered closed and he flushed a pretty shade of pink. He was too fucking easy, Deimos thought, always so hot for it, so eager to get fucked, even before they'd properly gotten to know one another. He was just as slutty as he accused Abel of being.

Phobos put a hand to Deimos' face and rubbed a thumb along his cheekbone, always too gentle for Deimos' tastes. "He's just a nasty little bitch," Phobos sulked. "All the officers love him and they don't even know what he's really _like_! He deliberately stomped on my toe in the lift the other day and he didn't even say sorry..."

"He did?" Deimos asked softly, and Phobos nodded and pouted, curling a hand round the back of Deimos' neck and pulling him down to kiss.

Deimos let Phobos give him a clumsy few kisses -- he was warm and pliant and felt good after a day spent getting kicked and shoved and screamed at during training. Phobos let out a sweet little sigh pulled him closer, all soft lips and long legs, and Deimos briefly considered rolling him over onto his hands and knees to fuck before deciding he couldn't be bothered getting messy tonight.

He wet his fingers instead and pushed them between Phobos' legs, pressing the tip of one inside him and biting Phobos' neck when Phobos threw his head back and moaned.

"Deimos..."

"Tell me about his fighter," Deimos murmured into the side of Phobos' warm neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin at his throat, fucking him hard and fast while Phobos pulled himself off.

"They -- ah! -- they say he's crazy. Th-that he keeps getting reassigned because no one wants to stay with him."

Deimos knew this was a lie but said nothing on it. "Anything else?" he pressed, as Phobos twisted fingers in Deimos' hair.

"N-no. Only that all of us were warned to stay away from him as soon as we got here."

Deimos kissed him again once he realized Phobos knew nothing of value, just to shut him up, and fucked him with his tongue and finger until Phobos' fingers tightened in Deimos' hair and he came, all over his clean white robe. Deimos let Phobos curl against him for a while after, head on his chest, before he went back to his own bed for the night, chain-smoking and staring up at the ceiling while he thought of Cain.


	2. Under the Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kurenai-Tenka, who asked for Deimos cuddles with his navigator.

"Deimos, what are you doing in there? It's been half an hour and I need the shower, come  _on_!" Phobos rapped on the bathroom door a few more times and hmphed. "Deimos," he said again, speaking into the crack of the door now, "stop being so selfish, you know we've got to be up early for patrol tomorrow morning and if I don't get to bed soon I'm going to look like _shit_ and have ugly bags under my eyes and—"

"Phobos. Shut  _up_." Deimos leaned on one hand over the sink, turning on the faucet to drown out the sound of Phobos’ voice. It didn’t work. His arm shook, the deep cut he’d made dripping blood onto the gleaming porcelain. He dropped his knife and it fell to the tiled floor with a clatter.

“Deimos, I’m going to count to ten, and if you don’t open the damned door and let me in I’ll put in the override. Don’t say I didn’t warn you! One, two—”

Deimos gritted his teeth and swore, kicked the knife out of view and spun round, slamming his palm into the panel by the door. It slid open to reveal Phobos, standing there with his shoulder against the frame, arms folded and one pale brow raised.

“Finally.”

Deimos threw his navigator a withering look and held his arm close to his chest. “Well go on then,” he said tightly, gesturing the shower stall with a jerk of his head. “Shower’s all yours.” He made to step past but Phobos blocked his path so he couldn’t leave, narrowed cold blue eyes at him and glanced Deimos over up and down.

“You’ve been doing it again, haven’t you?” Phobos looked over Deimos’ shoulder at the sink, still smeared in places with his blood, and pressed his lips together, glaring now.

Deimos didn’t answer him right away, just hissed when Phobos knocked his arm away from his chest and grew pale at the sight of Deimos’ bloodied arm. “I fucking  _knew_  it!” Phobos looked back up at him like Deimos had broken some sort of promise to him, but Deimos had never promised him a fucking thing.

"You're such an idiot," Phobos growled, slamming past him for the sink and knocking his shoulder, snatching the clean white hand-towel off the rack and switching on the taps. Deimos watched Phobos’ reflection in the spotted mirror, all pink cheeks and worry lines, and frowned at his back.

"It's him, isn't it? You always do this when you've been with him.” Phobos’ voice shook as he dampened the cloth beneath the faucet. Deimos couldn’t discern whether it was because he was truly angry or just upset at what he’d seen. Phobos had never liked the sight of blood. Too weak to be a soldier.

“He's stupid and mean and he's never done a nice thing for you or anybody,” Phobos snapped, turning round and grabbing Deimos’ arm, yanking him closer and slapping the wet cloth down on his forearm, cleaning away the excess blood before pressing it firmly to the bleeding gash.

Deimos winced but stayed put, guilty for reasons he didn’t care to think about.

“And why do you even care what he thinks anyway?" Phobos looked right at him then and made a face. "He isn’t even that cute, and you could do so much  _better_ , just—why are you so obsessed with him? I don’t understand you, Deimos."

"That’s because you don't know anything about me. Or him,” Deimos returned in a dull voice, watching as Phobos folded the towel round his arm, slender fingers shaking as he tied off the ends. “And what does cute have to do with anything?" Fuck, Phobos was dense sometimes. Deimos wasn't sure why he felt like laughing at a time like this, but then it was always too easy to laugh at Phobos. He was ridiculous.

“Everything,” Phobos replied with a sniff, folding his arms again. “I’m cute. You’re cute. Cain's just big and nasty and he has stupid hair. You don’t need him.”

Deimos smiled a little in spite of himself. “You’re crazy, you know that? And don’t talk about him like that, alright? You don’t know him at all.” It didn’t matter to him how Cain appeared to other people, or how bad things got between them: Cain was still his best friend and that had to count for something.

Phobos snorted and glowered down at him. “Oh, I’m the crazy one, am I? I’m not the one cutting myself up, Deimos! And I don’t care what you say—remember that time he tripped me up in the cafeteria and laughed when I spilled juice all over my uniform? He's a mean jerk and that’s all I need to know about him. Don’t pretend he’s any better with you."

"You deserved that," Deimos quietly reminded him. "You keep fucking with his navigator and he'll keep fucking with  _you_ ; I told you that. Problem is you never listen."

“Well." Phobos narrowed his eyes at him, tapped his bare foot against the tiled floor. "I’m _your_ navigator and you never stood up for me—and aren’t we supposed to take care of each other? You mustn’t care about me as much as _he_ cares about Abel.” Deimos didn’t say anything to that because it was true. And it stung. Cain cared more about that little blond waif than he’d ever cared about Deimos.

Phobos scowled then and tilted his chin, the way he always did when he was offended and didn’t want to listen anymore. “You don’t even have to say anything.” His voice wavered. “I know you don’t give a shit about me. You don’t even give a shit about yourself.” He spun on his heel and got into bed fully clothed, leaving Deimos standing there alone.

Deimos let out an impatient sigh and followed him back into their quarters, stood over Phobos’ bunk and watched his huddled shape beneath the sheets, a reluctant smirk tugging at his lips when he noted Phobos was pressed right up against the bulkhead, conveniently leaving enough space on the mattress for Deimos to lie down beside him if he wanted to.

“You’re just gonna sulk for the rest of the night, huh?” Deimos ducked his head beneath the top bunk, arm still tucked close to his chest, and planted a knee down on the mattress. He touched Phobos’ shoulder and Phobos shook his hand off.

“Leave me alone,” he demanded, voice muffled by the pillow. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“Fine. But aren’t you going to have your shower?”                    

“I already had a shower. While you were out. With _him_. I just wanted to see what you were doing in there and good thing I did—maybe I’ll tell one of the officers what you do to yourself and have you sent home.”

“You won’t.”

Phobos didn’t say anything to that and Deimos sat down on the bed beside him. He pushed his fingers through Phobos’ soft hair and let his hand fall to Phobos' shoulder, rubbing it gently. “Phobos—”

“Go away. I don’t want to cuddle with you.” Phobos sounded pathetically unconvincing and Deimos ignored him, lifted the corner of the bedsheet and lay down next to him, pressing up close to his warmth.

“You always want to cuddle,” he said, close to Phobos’ ear. He put an arm around his navigator’s belly and felt him relax against his chest. Deimos had known it wouldn’t take much. It never did. 

After a few minutes spent in silence, Phobos rolled over in the circle of Deimos' arms so that they were face to face, almost nose to nose, and put a hand to Deimos’ cheek, frowning at him. The earnestness in his expression was unsettling. “Why can’t you just be happy with _me_?” he asked in a whisper.  

Deimos tightened his arms around him and pulled him close, kissed him once and meant it. He rested his forehead against Phobos’ shoulder then, closing his eyes. Phobos didn’t ask him again.


End file.
